


The ghost of Rose Cottage

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: (brief mention of dom/isaac relationship), (isaac gets whats coming to him), F/F, No Angst, major ghost character, serena is a bit slow on the uptake, serena is an estate agent, seriously, the world's fluffiest ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Serena Campbell doesn’t believe in ghosts.When Rose Cottage comes onto the books of her estate agency, Serena doesn’t foresee any problems. But as tenant after tenant leaves, blaming ghostly goings-on, she finds herself frustrated and intrigued.Serena Campbell doesn’t believe in ghosts – yet.





	The ghost of Rose Cottage

Serena shuffles her documents together and gets out of the car. The cottage in front of her is a new one on their books, recently inherited by a young man who has no intention of living in it but equally doesn’t want to sell it. It’s being advertised as a long-term let, a quiet place in the countryside for people who want to escape the bustle of Holby. There has been a lot of interest in it already and she’s meeting the first viewer this morning – now, in fact.

She slams the car door and eyes the cottage appreciatively, noting the rambling roses that have given it its name, then, belatedly, the woman about her own age with blonde hair gleaming in the sun, perched on the garden wall.

Tucking her folder under one arm, she hurries over, holds a hand out. “Hello, I’m Serena Campbell, I’m sorry I’m late.”

The woman on the wall looks at her with mild astonishment and doesn’t move. “I – think you may have mistaken me for somebody else.”

Serena takes a quick peek at her folder. “You’re not Jasmine Burrows?” The woman shakes her head. “I’m ever so sorry,” Serena apologises. “I’m due to show her around the house.”

“It’s being sold, is it?” the woman asks, a small frown crossing her face.

“Rented.”

“Ah.” She seems to relax a little. “What do you think of it so far?”

“This is my first visit,” Serena admits, “Although my photographer raved about it when he came to do the photos.”

The other woman smiles and Serena thinks she has a lovely smile, looks as pretty as a picture sitting there on the old stone wall. “Good to know people appreciate it.”

Serena hears a car door bang behind her, turns to see the woman that must be Jasmine getting out of her car. She waves and receives a nod of acknowledgement, watches Jasmine help another woman out of the car, must be her partner.

Duty calls. She turns back to say goodbye to the woman who isn’t Jasmine, the woman with shining hair and a sparkling smile, but she’s vanished. Serena sighs to herself, not really sure why she’d so wanted at least to say goodbye, and moves to open the garden gate for the new arrival.

As they look around the cottage, Jasmine is effusive in her praise and Serena, used to pretending things are much better than they appear, barely has to say a word in the cottage’s defence. It’s not huge, only two bedrooms, but more than enough space for a young couple. It’s clearly been renovated recently, tastefully done, Serena thinks with satisfaction, the modern décor complimenting the old building.

Jasmine is so enthusiastic that they head back to Serena’s offices immediately so that she can sign the contract. If only all rentals could be so easy, Serena thinks to herself as the door closes behind a very satisfied customer.

* * *

Two weeks later, Jasmine is in her office, wide-eyed and tearful as she tells Serena she’s going to have to break the lease.

Serena feels sorry for the girl, makes her a cup of tea and pushes it in front of her. Enquires, tentatively, as to the reason. There’s a fairly heft fee for breaking the contract and she’ll help Jasmine stay in the cottage if she can. She’s expecting to hear something about money troubles, maybe a family illness. What Jasmine blurts out, in between sniffs, is utterly unexpected.

“It’s haunted!”

Serena doesn’t believe in ghosts but as she looks at Jasmine’s tear-streaked face, she thinks there’s probably a time and a place for that argument. Instead she pats Jasmine’s hand gently. “What’s happened?”

Jasmine chokes out a story of misplaced possessions, books falling for no reason, the feeling of a presence in the house.

“It’s an old house with uneven floors,” Serena says after a moment to collect her thoughts, “So that might account for things falling unexpectedly. Perhaps you’re just forgetting where you put things? Or your girlfriend is moving them? Where is she, by the way?”

“She’s packing, she’s got some friends to keep her company. It’s too scary to be on your own in that place.”

“Okay.” Clearly she won’t be persuading Jasmine to keep the place, but it’s such a lovely cottage that Serena has no doubt she’ll be able to let it quickly. “You know there’s a fee for moving out before the end of your contract, but I’ll halve it. Does that sound reasonable?”

Jasmine beams and Serena would almost feel that she’d been had, if it wasn’t for the fear that she can still see lurking in Jasmine’s eyes.

* * *

It’s barely a week later that Serena is back outside Rose Cottage; it is as popular as she’d anticipated. “Serena! You’re back,” her acquaintance from before greets her with a smile from the bench just outside the low garden wall.

“Yes. Wasn’t expecting to see you here again.”

The other woman stretches, reveals a toned stomach to Serena’s quickly averted eyes. “This is one of my favourite places, I usually walk here in the mornings. Just look at that view.” She gestures and Serena turns to admire the view, down the valley to patchwork fields and autumn colours of the forest. She’s early to the appointment so she takes a seat by the stranger and smiles at her.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Bernie,” the stranger murmurs.

“And, pardon my curiosity, but if you like it here that much, why don’t you rent the house yourself?”

“I’m not really in a position to do that,” Bernie says with a sigh.

“Oh.” Serena is curious but doesn’t want to pry, casts around for another way to continue the conversation. “You must have a lot of free time then? I wish I did. You probably know that I’m an estate agent, I seem to spend half my time driving around the other half on tedious paperwork.”

There’s a glimmer of a grin on Bernie’s face. “Yes, I guessed. I’m, well, I suppose retired is the best word for it. I _was_ in the army.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Bernie considers. “Mostly, I think. How come you’re back here so soon? I swear it’s only been a couple of weeks since it was let?”

Serena looks at her, mirrors her grin. There’s still no sign of her prospective renters, so she leans in confidingly to Bernie. “The couple left because they said it was haunted. Haunted! Can you imagine? Believing in ghosts!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bernie says, “I’d never rule anything out.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Serena says firmly and Bernie shrugs.

“I’m not arguing with you. Oh, look, are those your next victims?” She points at a car just cresting the hill.

“It’s a nice house!” Serena protests as she stands. “It was good to see you again.”

Bernie’s smile is beaming. “You too,” she says.

* * *

The new couple, Ric and Françoise, are in their fifties, look no-nonsense. Serena heaves a sigh of relief when they sign, thinks that she won’t have to worry about this particular cottage for a while. So it’s with surprise and frustration that she sees them walk into the office not even two weeks later.

“It’s a lovely place,” Ric says as he drops the keys on her desk, “But we can’t stay.”

“What’s happened?”

The couple exchange looks. “This appeared on the bathroom mirror this morning.” Françoise passes over her phone and Serena looks at the picture. Scrawled across the mirror is the word ‘leave’, over and over again.

“This was the last straw. Things being moved around, the TV changing channel constantly.”

“That hideous dinner plate of your mother’s smashed to smithereens,” Ric adds.

“Surely there’s some innocent explanation,” Serena protests weakly.

Françoise shoots Ric a look. “In the case of the plate, quite possibly.”

“It wasn’t me, honestly. It was on the floor when I got to the kitchen. And I’d rather not wait to find out there’s _not_ an innocent explanation for all of this,” Ric says and Françoise pulls out her cheque book.

“What’s the fee?”

* * *

The only saving grace of the next few months is her chats to Bernie when she makes her now inevitable fortnightly trips to the cottage. She always schedules the visits for the morning, because Bernie mentioned that’s when she’s around, and she’s starting to arrive early on purpose, just to have a quiet ten minutes with Bernie as they sit side by side on the bench, admiring the view. Serena would love to go for coffee with her sometime, talk without it being cut short by the arrival of clients, but she’s shy to suggest it and Bernie never does.

Aside from the pleasure of seeing Bernie, Serena is starting to despair. How can one cottage be causing her so much trouble? It’s always the same story – possessions being moved around, the sense of a presence in the house, and she’s noticed that people who manage to stay a little longer than average start having messages left to them on the bathroom mirror. She’s beginning to wonder if she should ask the owner if she can arrange an exorcism.

* * *

One morning she finds herself running late, curses as she jams the car into gear, because she won’t have time to see Bernie. She arrives at the cottage after her clients, two young men, and the dark haired one is checking his watch and tutting. There’s no sign of Bernie and Serena is surprised to find that she minds, a lot, even if she doesn’t have time for a leisurely chat right now.

“Isaac,” the darker man introduces himself, “And this is Dom.”

Dom holds out his hand to her with a quiet smile. There’s a faded bruise on his arm and he drops his hand quickly when he spots her looking. As she shows them round the house she begins to dislike Isaac intensely. He’s rude, arrogant and he brushes off any input that Dom might have. She can see Dom’s shoulders droop, wonders why he stays with such a nasty person. By the time she says goodbye to them at the door she is convinced that there is something very wrong in their relationship.

“Hello, you,” a welcome voice sounds from behind her and she turns with a smile to see Bernie nearing the house.

“I wondered where you’d got to,” Serena says, “How are you?”

“Oh, same old,” Bernie sits down on the bench and Serena joins her. “Those the latest?” She nods at the disappearing car.

“Something’s wrong there,” Serena says, glad to share her thoughts, even if there’s nothing she can do. “I wish I could keep an eye on them, I liked the look of Dom and I think he’s in trouble.”

“Hmm,” Bernie says, “Protective, are you?” She says it jokingly but there’s a frown on Serena’s face.

“I think he needs protecting.”

* * *

Two and a half weeks after they move in, Dom is in the office. Serena has been marking the days off on the calendar. She’s actually surprised it’s been so long, even more surprised that Dom is on his own.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to break the contract, Serena,” he says, but there’s a smile in his eyes.

“Oh, why?” Serena asks, expecting the usual answer.

“Isaac and I broke up and I can’t afford to live there on my own.”

Serena leans back in her chair and laughs with something like relief and Dom raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry,” Serena says, recovering herself a little, “But I was convinced you were going to say it was haunted. How silly!”

Dom just looks at her. “Oh, it’s definitely haunted.”

He sounds completely un-bothered and Serena gapes at him unprofessionally.

“It started the day we moved in. We argued, I’d packed something wrong, it’d been damaged, nothing unfixable but Isaac was furious.” Dom shivers slightly, “And I was scared, but, oh, it seemed crazy, but I felt like there was somebody there with me, somebody on my side, and I stood up for myself.”

“And you think it was a – ghost?” Serena asks sceptically.

“That was just the first day. There were messages on my bathroom mirror, telling me to be strong. Isaac threw something at me and it just – missed. Changed course, as though somebody had pushed it out of my way. Isaac got so mad at me for that even though we both knew I hadn’t done anything.

Another day he tried to push me down the stairs. I completely overbalanced, I should have fallen, but somebody held me up. And then _Isaac _went flying down the stairs. And yesterday,” a faint smile crosses Dom’s face, “We were arguing outside, because Isaac wouldn’t argue inside any more, and that old fashioned milk jug that was in the kitchen came flying out of the window and knocked him out. When he came around he decided that he’d leave me and the cottage both. So yes, it’s definitely haunted and I’ll be thanking that ghost when I leave. Saved me from a lot of bruises and a terrible relationship.”

Serena sits in stunned silence for a moment. “Okay,” she says eventually. “Friendly ghost.”

* * *

Serena’s car is booked in for its MOT when the next viewing is arranged at the cottage. She curses her luck and wonders why she hasn’t ever even asked Bernie for her phone number. Fletch, her second-in-command, is quite happy to go instead of her and she waits in the office for his return and the phone call from the garage.

Fletch arrives first. He’s pale as he stumbles through the door. “I’m not going there again, boss,” he says as he drops the keys to the cottage on the table.

“What on earth is wrong?”

“It’s haunted!” Is all she can get out of him.

“Did the people like it?”

“Freaked us all out, to be honest. Don’t think they’ll be back in a hurry.”

Serena stows the keys in her filing cabinet and sighs. Perhaps she’d better start warning prospective clients about this so-called ghost. At least that way it would be on them.

* * *

“I should warn you,” Serena says quietly to Jac as her little girl scampers around the front garden, “There’s a lot of reports of paranormal activity in this house.”

“Really.” Scepticism drips from Jac’s voice.

“I don’t believe in ghosts either,” Serena says, “But there have been ten different tenancies in this cottage in four months that would suggest otherwise.”

Jac looks round the garden, watches her daughter laugh as she climbs the small apple tree. “I’ll take a chance on it.”

“She looks scary,” Bernie says as they watch Jac drive away.

“Adorable daughter though.” Serena notes the wistful look on Bernie’s face. “Do you have kids?”

“One boy,” Bernie sighs, “Didn’t see enough of him growing up because I was away on tours of duty.”

“And now?”

Bernie just shrugs and shakes her head. “What about you?”

“No, it’s just me and Jason.”

“Jason?” There’s a slightly strangled note in Bernie’s voice.

“My cat.”

* * *

It’s been a month since Jac and Emma moved into the cottage and Serena is growing increasingly fidgety. Every day she expects a phone call or a visit but nothing happens. She wonders if Bernie is missing her, if Bernie is wondering where she is.

On Saturday morning, she gives up. Gets in her car, drives up to the cottage and hopes that Jac is out somewhere, won’t wonder what her estate agent is doing. Her luck is in; Jac’s car has gone and the house looks quiet and even better, she’s been admiring the view for only a few minutes when Bernie appears.

“Serena!” There’s a beaming smile on her face as she climbs the stile out of the neighbouring field. “How lovely to see you.”

“I, um, it’s a nice day. Thought I might wander this way for a walk.”

“Good plan,” Bernie says as she sits on the bench next to her. “It’s been a while, the new tenants seem to have more staying power than usual.”

“It’s good,” Serena says, “Saves me a lot of trouble.” She twists her fingers together, wondering whether she should admit why she’s really here when Bernie takes the words out of her mouth.

“I’ve missed you.” There’s a soft smile on her face and Serena relaxes.

“I’ve missed you too.”

* * *

“Look,” Jac says over the phone, “I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t.”

Serena sighs internally. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing bad.” She doesn’t speak for a moment and Serena can hear her opening something, a window perhaps. “It’s Emma.”

“Is she okay?” Serena really doesn’t want to hear that she’s been the target of ghostly goings-on.

“Never happier. She’s playing in the garden at the moment.”

“I – I’m not sure I see the problem?”

“She’s playing _with_ somebody. Somebody that I can’t see.”  
“Lots of children have imaginary friends.”

“Do their imaginary friends teach them maths? And _Ar__abic_? Do imaginary friends usually tell a child that their mum’s had a hard day and it would be a lovely idea to bring her a cup of tea?”

“Um. Have you asked her about it?”

“Yes, well, I don’t need to, she talks about ‘the Major’ all the time.”

“It sounds like it’s not a problem then? Unless you don’t like her learning Arabic?” Serena has a desperate stab at making a joke.

“I’m sorry, Serena. It’s such a lovely place but Emma would rather be here playing with this, this ghost, than doing anything else. I don’t think it’s healthy. I’m looking for somewhere else to rent.”

* * *

The week after Jac moves out, Serena decides to investigate for herself. It’s very much against the rules but she has to know what’s going on. She slips the keys from her filing cabinet before she locks the office up, goes home to pack the sleeping bag that a boyfriend had once bought her in an ill-advised attempt to persuade her to go camping (they hadn’t), and provisions for the night.

It’s dark when she arrives at the cottage and she looks at it with a shiver. It’s still a lovely place but being here now, on her own, when she’s heard so many tales about the odd goings on, is enough to make her back out of her plan. But she takes a deep breath, steels herself and opens the door as she has so many times before.

She switches on the lights, makes herself a cup of coffee before heading to the living room and flicking on the TV. As the screen fills with light she catches a movement in the doorway out of the corner of her eye but when she turns there’s nothing there. She pulls up her legs, curls herself up on the sofa. “Get it together, Campbell,” she says out loud to herself. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

As the hours progress without incident, she begins to relax. Eventually, around eleven, she turns the TV off and heads upstairs. She unpacks her sleeping bag and spreads it out on the bed in the bedroom that she’s always liked the look of, then changes quickly into her pyjamas. As she strips off her top and bra there’s a prickle of awareness, a sense that somebody’s watching her and she whirls round, pyjama top clutched to her chest, heart thumping. But the door is closed and there’s nobody there.

When she gets into bed, she leaves the light on.

Gradually her unease fades and she feels a sense of peace, of being welcomed, wash over her. The room feels as much like home as her own home ever has, and she switches off the light and snuggles down.

She sleeps soundly, better than she has done in ages. In the morning she wakes slowly and leisurely, stretches and rolls over. There, on the bedside table, is a cup of coffee. Steam is rising from it in soft curls. _Shit_ . She’s bolt upright in a second, pressing a hand to her chest in panic. She tries to rationalise it – but she can’t. Someone, some _thing_ has made her a cup of coffee. She isn’t going to hang around any longer, doesn’t even bother to get dressed but flees the house with her clothes and belongings tucked haphazardly into her bag. She’ll sort the cup another day. When she has company.

* * *

Serena looks at the young man, Cameron, on the other side of the desk, trying to marshal some sort of defence.

“I decided to rent out mum’s house after she died because I didn’t want to sell it, too many memories there. I thought it’d be a nice, steady, income.”

“Yes,” Serena agrees.

“But there have been,” he checks his notes, “Fourteen tenants. In six months.”

“Yes,” Serena says again, because there’s not much else she can say at this point.

“Why?!”

“The thing is. Well, the thing is, Cameron, they all say it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous!” He’s about to continue when his phone starts ringing and he fishes it out of a pocket, hangs up and dumps it on the table in front of him. “Sorry about that.”

But Serena is staring at the picture on his lockscreen. “Bernie!” she says.

“Oh, yes.” He looks down fondly, runs his thumb briefly over the screen. “Did you know mum then? You didn’t say.”

Serena can barely get a coherent word out. “I – uh – um. Didn’t know she was your mum.”

“It’s been ten months since she died and I miss her every day. How did you know her?”

Serena’s tongue is tied in knots and she thinks she might be having a stroke. “Just – acquaintance,” she manages. She grips the table, breathes deeply, counts to ten as she inhales and exhales.

“Are you okay?” Cameron asks, concerned.

“No, actually, I don’t think I am. I’m sorry – do you think, could we resume this tomorrow? Or next week?” she stands, holding onto the table for support and she must look awful because Cameron nods sympathetically.

“Of course. I’ll see myself out, don’t worry.” He’s gathered up his phone and papers and is gone in a flash.

Serena walks unsteadily out of the room and into the front office. Fletch is busy at his computer, looks up as she appears.

“Boss! You look terrible!”

“Thank you, Fletch. I’m going home. See you tomorrow.” She heads out of the office without further ado, stumbles to her car and slumps into the front seat. But when she starts the engine, it’s not to go home.

She takes the drive up to the cottage slowly, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. She pulls up outside the house and Bernie appears from the garden, looking sparkling and bright in the spring sunshine.

“Serena!” She heads to the bench and pats it. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Serena climbs slowly out of the car, walks hesitantly to the bench and sits down next to her.

“I saw a picture of you today, Bernie. On Cameron’s phone.”

Bernie breathes out deeply. “Right.”

“You’re dead.”

“Yes.”

“You’re the reason that virtually none of my tenants have stayed longer than two weeks! Have you any idea how much work you’ve been causing me?! It’s been driving me mad!”

Bernie looks at her with genuine astonishment. “Is that – is that really what you’re focussing on here?” And then she laughs and Serena can’t help herself, starts laughing too because this is insane, utterly insane, all of it.

Eventually Serena gulps her laughs down, wipes the tears from her eyes and turns to Bernie. “This was your cottage. Is that why you’ve been driving everybody away?”

Bernie shifts awkwardly. “That would probably sound better than the real reason. Yes, that’s a good one. I’m possessive of it.”

“Bernie...”

Bernie gazes skywards. “Fine! It’s not the people, particularly. I wanted – I wanted to see you, and I knew if you were showing new people around I’d get to see you, talk to you.”

“What did you do to Fletch, that time I sent him instead of me? It wasn’t his fault you know, my car was out of action.”

“Nothing too awful,” Bernie protests. “I just waved his keys around a bit.” Then she grins. “Do you believe in ghosts now?”

“I suppose, on balance, I have to, don’t I. I – Bernie, you know, I like talking to you too.”

“Why don’t you come in? Have a cup of tea. We can talk properly.”

“I didn’t bring the keys with me.”

“The spare set is still hidden by the door; Cam didn’t know about it. Come on.”

“I don’t understand-” Serena says as she follows Bernie along the path, -“Why I can see you and nobody else can. You look real to me.”

“I am real,” Bernie points out.

“You know what I mean. What’s the word? Corporeal.”

“Fancy. And I have no idea. I’d been here, oh, two months or so when you turned up. You could have knocked me down with a feather when you just started chatting to me. After two months of quiet, it was wonderful. Look,” she points to a stone sitting nestled under a rose bush, “Keys are under there.”

“Well, that’s massively insecure,” Serena says as she stoops to retrieve them.

Bernie shrugs. “It’s not like there are a lot of people out here. The occasional dog walker, nobody of a criminal bent.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll take them with me when I go. I wouldn’t want a burglary on my conscience.”

“That’s up to you, it’s not like I need them, anyway.” And, as if to prove the point, Bernie winks and then casually turns and walks through the still-locked door.

“Shit,” Serena mutters to herself and unlocks the door to follow Bernie in the conventional manner.

“Alright?” Bernie says as Serena pushes the door closed behind her.

Serena swallows and smiles gamely. “Fine.”

Bernie gestures into the kitchen. “The last lot left some tea. You’ll have to have it black though, the fridge is empty.”

Serena fills the kettle and puts it on to boil and Bernie leans back against a counter. She’s looking particularly fetching today, Serena notes; long, slim legs encased in black and a white shirt open at the neck. She shakes the thought from her head. “You scared the life out of me that morning, you know. I assume it was you, making the coffee?”

“I’m sorry,” Bernie says contritely, “I was trying to be nice.”

“Nice!”

“And you made that night rather awkward for me you know. I had to skulk out of the way.”

“What, you can’t just,” Serena waves her hands vaguely, “be invisible?”

“Not to you for some reason, no.”

Serena ponders. “So, is this some sort of ghost whisperer scenario? I need to pass on a message, complete your final wish, and then you get to move on?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve never been dead before. Don’t know how it works usually, but there’s nothing niggling at me. I wrote my will before I left for Afghanistan, and letters to the kids and such. So don’t worry, you don’t need to have any awkward conversations with Cam.”

The kettle clicks and Serena makes herself a cup of tea, sits down at the table and gestures for Bernie to join her. Bernie sits down solidly and Serena sips and thinks out loud. “You can touch things. Obviously. Aside from the coffee, the number of times I’ve heard that you’re hurling things around the house like some sort of – of poltergeist. You’ve never touched me, though.” She blushes as she says it.

“Can I try?” Bernie asks softly and Serena gulps and nods her head.

Bernie edges her hand across the table and there’s a moment where they’re both holding their breath, and then Bernie’s finger nudges against Serena’s.

“Oh,” Serena breathes. It’s not totally solid, there’s an odd sort of flutter to it, but she can feel it, can feel Bernie’s touch.

“Serena,” Bernie whispers, and Serena is shocked to see a tear trickle down Bernie’s face. Before she can think about, she’s wiping it off gently with her thumb, Bernie’s skin soft against hers and Bernie leans into her hand. “I just – I never thought I could, even when I wanted to, so much,” Bernie says.

“Bernie,” Serena starts, doesn’t know how to continue.

Bernie pulls herself upright and Serena drops her hand to her lap, pressing it firmly against her trousers to try to ground herself.

“I’ve tried not be too awful,” Bernie says after a moment. “At haunting, I mean. I didn’t hurt anybody.”

Serena manages a smile. “Apart from Isaac.”

“He deserved it,” Bernie said darkly. “Awful man.”

“Thank you for looking out for Dom, I’m glad you could. He said he’d be thanking you.”

“And he did. Gave me full control of the remote control that last night,” Bernie laughs. “It was a treat.”

“Sounded like you had fun with Emma as well.”

Bernie smiles reminiscently. “She was adorable. A little madam at times but sweet. And it was so nice to have somebody around who could see me.”

“Better than me?” Serena asks, suddenly jealous, but Bernie looks at her, just looks, and she blushes and ducks her head.

“I didn’t want to scare her,” Bernie says after a moment, “And Jac had enough on her plate. Do you know how they’re getting on, by the way?”

“As it happens, I do. Fletch took them to see a few new places and they all hit it off. Look.” Serena pulls her phone out of her pocket and flicks through her messages to find the one Fletch sent her. He’d taken Jac and Emma out bowling and it’s a photo of the three of them.

“Romance in the air then?” Bernie asks.

“I think there is,” Serena says and the air around them seems to thicken. Bernie holds her gaze, won’t let her look away. “You’re a ghost,” Serena whispers after an eternity.

Bernie stands abruptly, pushes her chair back so fast that it falls over, clatters noisily to the ground. “Do you think I don’t know that?” she says in vexation, leaning back against the counter and running her hands over her face, “Do you think I don’t know how utterly insane falling in love with you is? How much I would have given to know you when I was alive?”

“You’re in love with me?”

Bernie makes a noise of utter frustration and looks away. Serena gets slowly to her feet, picks up the fallen chair and tucks it in, walks steadily until she’s standing in front of Bernie. Reaches out to touch Bernie’s not-quite firm face and meets questioning eyes. “Let me try something?” she says quietly and leans forward.

Their lips meet and it’s different and new and a bit strange but it’s also good and soft and exciting.

“Well?” Serena questions as she pulls back to look at Bernie. Bernie’s fingers find her hair and her cheek and pull her back in. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“That was incredible,” Bernie says when they eventually part.

Serena’s pulse is jumping and she knows she’s flushed. “Best kiss I’ve had in ages.” She doesn’t move away from Bernie, lets her hands slip down her arms to clutch her fingers.

“What do you want to do now?”

There’s an anxious look in Bernie’s eyes and at this precise moment Serena doesn’t have a clue. “I want a glass of wine. There wouldn’t happen to be a fully-stocked wine cellar here that Cameron didn’t know about?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Bernie’s tone is light but the corner of her mouth is drooping and Serena’s heart twinges.

She comes to an easy decision, squeezes Bernie’s hands. “Can you come back to mine?”

Bernie looks startled. “I – don’t know. I haven’t been able to get much beyond the cottage on my own, but maybe – maybe because it’s you.”

There’s such a hopeful tone in her voice. Serena tugs her forward gently. “Let’s try.”

“What, now?”

“Why not? You didn’t have plans, did you?”

Bernie laughs at this, and lets Serena lead her out of the cottage.

Serena locks the cottage with one hand, holding on to Bernie with the other. Then they head down the path, Serena concentrating on the feel of Bernie’s hand in hers, not looking back, only forward to her car, trying not to think about Orpheus, who led his love out of hell and then lost her. She keeps her grip on Bernie’s hand tight and Bernie is still there when they reach the car and Serena opens the door and finally looks round.

Bernie’s face is flushed and she’s smiling. “Haven’t made it this far before,” she says to Serena’s raised eyebrow. She climbs into the passenger seat and puts on her seatbelt, then laughs. “Force of habit,” she says as Serena gets in to the drivers side. “Look, if I disappear – you will come back? To the cottage?”

She’s looking anxious again and Serena reaches out to put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Of course I will. But you won’t.”

Bernie lets out a long slow breath. “Thank you.”

Serena puts the car in gear, does the usual awkward u-turn in front of the cottage and heads slowly down the hill.

Bernie is gripping her seat ferociously, and, as much to take her mind off it than because she’s actually curious, Serena asks, “So; solid, not solid. What’s the deal there?”

“Just have to concentrate,” Bernie murmurs. “If I want to be able to, to pick a random example, throw a jug through the window at somebody then I can, and I stay that way until I want to, to pick another example, fade through a wall when somebody’s changing unexpectedly in my bedroom. But I’m not explaining it very well, am I?”

Serena grins. “I think I get the gist. It was you, that night! I thought I felt somebody watching me.” She glances sidelong at Bernie, pleased to note that she’s looking more relaxed, although a little sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to. I just went upstairs and there you were, all. Um. Well, you know. So I left quickly. Sorry.”

“No harm done in the end,” Serena says with a laugh.

As they drive through Holby Bernie stares greedily out of the window. “I love my cottage, you know,” she says, without looking away, “But months and months of being confined there has been wearing to say the least.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be like,” Serena admits. “One of the perks of my job is not being stuck in the office all the time. We’re nearly home now.”

Serena lives in a quiet road on the outskirts of the city, a two bed house with a large garden that Jason enjoys roaming in. She pulls into the drive and Bernie looks at it appreciatively. “It looks lovely, Serena.”

“Not a patch on your place,” Serena says as they climb out the car and she locks it. “I am proud of the garden though. That’s where I spend my spare time.”

“You’ve done a fantastic job. Oh, is that Jason?” She points at a small black cat who is staring at Serena from a window.

“Little bugger,” Serena says affectionately. “I don’t know what he’ll make of you, he’s not great with strangers.”

“If he’s able to see me at all.”

Serena unlocks the front door and Jason appears to tangle himself under her feet. “Yes, I’m home early,” she says as she bends to scratch him behind his ears, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Bernie hovers on the doorstep until Serena straightens and smiles at her, beckons her in. Jason sniffs at her and she squats, holds out a hand to him which he considers for a moment and then licks.

“He likes you,” Serena says with a smile and Bernie looks up at her with shining eyes.

Serena watches her fuss the cat for a moment. “Come on, let me show you around.”

Serena does the quick tour of the house, finishing up in the living room, flops on the sofa and gestures Bernie to join her.

“It’s so nice to be somewhere new,” Bernie says with a laugh, “Even a change of sofa is good. And you have a lovely house.”

Serena nods then yawns. “Sorry, it’s been a heck of a day.” She lets her fingers brush briefly against Bernie’s. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.”

“Me neither,” Bernie leans in closer. “Can I kiss you again?”

For answer, Serena captures Bernie’s lips with hers and it’s just as good as before, better in fact because Bernie is here, in her home and everything feels right.

Later, Serena makes dinner, eats it with Bernie sat at the table with her, chatting about all the things they haven’t managed to in umpteen meetings outside Bernie’s cottage. It’s surprising how normal it feels to have her here, a treat to be sharing her evening with somebody who makes her smile so much.

After dinner they curl up on the sofa. Serena lets Bernie choose what to watch but neither of them pay much attention to it. Bernie strokes Serena’s fingers, examining them carefully for no particular reason.

“You will stay, won’t you?” Serena blurts out, tightening her fingers around Bernie’s.

“I’d – Serena, I’d like to. Very much. But -”

“But what?”

“Shouldn’t you be with somebody, you know - ” She doesn’t say the word _alive_ but they both know what she means.

Serena huffs. “I’ve dated a long line of potato-faced men who all turned out to be awful in their own unique ways. I’d rather have you, any day, even if it is a little unconventional.”

“A little,” Bernie chuckles. “Potato-faced men? Really?”

“Fletch’s words, not mine. Apparently I have terrible taste in men.”

“Sounds like he’s jealous if you ask me.”

Serena can’t help the laughter that bursts forth from her at that statement. It’s infectious and Bernie laughs too, a glorious hooting noise that just makes Serena laugh harder, until there are tears streaming down their faces.

Eventually Serena manages to recover herself. “He’s really not,” she hiccups and wipes her eyes. “Oh Bernie, I haven’t laughed like that in ages. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Bernie smiles that smile, the one that first captivated Serena all those months ago. “Maybe I was always supposed to end up with you.”

* * *

One week later, Cameron is back in Serena’s office. In the week that Bernie and Serena have spent together, curled up on Serena’s sofa, in her bed, they’ve talked for hours, about everything, and they’ve come up with a plan. Now, they just have to hope that Cam will fall in with it.

Bernie is perched on Serena’s desk, not quite touching her. There’s silence in the room for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking,” Cam says eventually, “Maybe it would be better to sell the cottage after all. I’ve decided to go back to med school and it would be easier if I didn’t have to worry about tenants. But – I don’t know. It feels wrong, selling mum’s place.”

Serena glances at Bernie, who is smiling broadly. “I’m so pleased,” she says to Serena. “He’ll be a fantastic doctor someday.”

“I think your mum would say your career is more important than a cottage,” Serena says to Cam as Bernie nods, “And, actually, I have a suggestion,” she takes a breath and Bernie pats her shoulder, “I’d like to buy it. I’d offer you full market value,” she rushes on, “And you’d be welcome to visit if and when you wanted. Bernie talks about you so much, I feel as if I know you well already.”

Cam’s eyes narrow. “Talked, you mean.”

“Um, yes,” Serena mumbles as Bernie laughs.

“I told you he was sharp,” Bernie says with some pride.

“Shush, you,” Serena says, glancing at her, then catches herself with a jolt. “I mean… um...”

Cam is staring at her. “You seem to know a lot about me for a person that mum never mentioned. And last week, when you saw my phone, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” Serena can almost see his brain whirring. “The cottage is supposedly haunted. It was never haunted before. You just talked about mum in the present tense.” His fingers are gripping the desk tightly. “Is _mum _haunting the cottage?!”

“Um,” Serena says again.

Bernie hops off the desk, slides round to where Cameron is sitting and stoops to hug him. There’s a dazed look on his face. “Mum,” he says, and his hands cover hers.

* * *

It’s not, Serena admits, a very conventional family. But then she’d always been quite bored by convention. It’s nearly halloween, and Bernie is in the kitchen, helping her granddaughter to carve a pumpkin, while Serena, Cam and his wife Morven are decorating the living room to an appropriately spooky level. Jason is underfoot, batting at the streamers they’re trying to hang.

Serena has never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ProfessorFlimFlam for looking over this and helping me sort out the end.


End file.
